


As the Lotus blooms

by theAbandoned_Grimoire



Category: The Founder of Diabolism, The Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation, 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù, 魔道祖师 | Módào Zǔshī (Cartoon)
Genre: Forgiveness, Gen, Gift Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Introspective Jiāng Chéng | Jiāng Wǎnyín, Tags Are Hard, Yunmeng Twin Prides feels, emotions are difficult
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-09-01 04:54:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20252512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theAbandoned_Grimoire/pseuds/theAbandoned_Grimoire
Summary: In the night, Jiang Cheng reminisces about the various firsts of his life- both good and bad- and watches the dawn in the presence of this year's first lotus flower.





	As the Lotus blooms

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).

> My little oneshot as part of the YilingWei server's blessings exchange! 
> 
> The prompt I selected from the list offered was: "a standalone introspective jiang cheng fic as he surmises about the changes in his life throughout the years". Introspection isn't really my strongest point, but I hope the story proves to be enjoyable - or at least, touching!
> 
> (Couldn't resist the Yunmeng Twin Prides feels too orz)

Firsts are generally something to be treasured. 

A child’s first laughter, first word, first time walking, first time holding a sword, first victory on the battlefield, first blood drawn - all are varied, and while not all of them are happy, they all hold meaning. 

They all hold importance.

Sentimentality, Jiang Cheng thinks, holding a jug of wine in his hand as he sits on the edge of the pier. It’s night, and the only time he’d ever be willing to indulge in this sort of foolishness, for Jin Ling is asleep - and so is everyone else in Yunmeng - and there is no one around to watch him.

No one around to judge him.

There’s been a lot of firsts in his life, and he treasures them all, guards them like how a dragon guards its hoard, cloaks them in the rage and resentment that he wears just as proudly as he wields Zidian. 

The same pride and rage that Jin Ling has picked up from him, Jiang Cheng muses, even as he downs the rest of the wine and reaches for the next jug. Jin Ling has inherited almost nothing of his mother's character, and something about that knowledge smarts more than anything else. 

(Maybe this was just another failure of his.)

It is hardly his first time drinking alcohol, alone or otherwise, but he remembers the first time he tried it. His first ever experience with alcohol is also his first experience drinking with another person (with Wei Wuxian, no less), and in the end, they both got absolutely wasted and had to be carried home by A-Jie. 

His mother was terribly harsh on them the next day, insisting on training them even while they were suffering from their terrible life choices. (Another first for him, training while hungover.)

Those are the firsts that Jiang Cheng treasures, the firsts from the early part of his life that shone as brightly as the golden core within his chest. 

Forty-eight hours of slow, torturous pain, he thinks. Not the first time someone has sacrificed their life for him, but one that stings just as badly.

(Just another debt that he will never be able to repay.)

The firsts that come later are no less precious to him, but they are clouded and dulled with the bitterness of pain, of betrayal and hurt, and these are the firsts that Jiang Cheng wields as swords, swinging their jagged edges to make sure no one else comes close. 

Because even though it’s not okay, even if the wounds keep bleeding, he has people depending on him (his sect, his nephew, his stupid adopted brother who ran to Gusu), so even if it isn’t okay, it would have to be.

It needs to be enough, because there is no other option left to him.

He is Jiang Cheng, Jiang Wanyin, Sect Leader of the YunmengJiang. He is the sole pride left in Yunmeng, and he is alone. 

“Uncle?”

Jin Ling approaches, footsteps loud in the silence of the night, Suihua on his belt. Jiang Cheng blinks, before snorting. Of course his nephew would find out that he was awake at this ungodly hour.

“What,” the man replies, though it is less of a question and more of a statement. 

It is permission and query rolled up into one, and Jin Ling ignores the latter to flop down on the wooden floorboards beside his uncle. “It’s too hot,” the child comments, eyeing the jugs of wine barely an arm’s length away.

Jin Ling is technically not allowed to try any, but since his uncle seems to be in a good mood…?

This is a first too, Jiang Cheng notes absently. His first child, even if Jin Ling is technically A-Jie’s son and not his. “Go back to sleep or I’ll break your legs tomorrow,” he threatens, but there is no heat in his tone. 

It doesn’t stop Jin Ling from scrambling to his feet and dashing away, however, vowing to beat him in sparring practice tomorrow.

The YunmengJiang sect leader only snorts, leaning back against the wooden boards of the pier and settling in to watch the sunrise. There is a single bud peeking above the water’s surface, illuminated by the first rays of dawn.

The first lotus of the year, Jiang Cheng thinks, and considers offering it to his parents and his sister when it blooms.

It would be nothing less than they deserved.

(Perhaps Wei Wuxian would like to come too.)


End file.
